116 



THREE YEARS IN THE PACIFIC. 



direction, for want of fodder — our mules and oxen are growing 

 leaner and leaner every day — straw is dear, and we must lay 

 up for the season, to give our cattle an opportunity to fatten !" 



The glare from the fire presented the group in strong relief; 

 their brown ponchos and bragas, sun-burnt faces, and bare legs, 

 gave them a wild appearance, that might have induced one to 

 mistake the scene for a bivouac of banditti. 



In a few minutes, our capataz cried, ya estamos, Senores" 

 — we are ready. Sirs. We again mounted, and, having first 

 rolled our cloaks around us, each settled into his own corner. 

 As it was growing late, Manuel hitched his beast on the right; 

 and while the horse in the shafts trotted at a rapid rate, those 

 under the saddle went at a hand gallop. The road was now 

 hard, smooth, and perfectly level. By the light of the stars, 

 we could perceive that the capatdz kept the relief horses and 

 mules trotting on ahead. For the greater part of the way, 

 Pepe and Manuel relieved each other in low, plaintive ditties, 

 which were unintelligible to us on account of the rattling of 

 the wheels, the pattering of hoofs, and the jingle of spurs. 

 Whenever we passed a bivouac, such as above described, Ma- 

 nuel always hailed with the greatest good humor, and was al- 

 ways answered in some gay saying. 



In this manner we rode four leagues, which brought us to 

 the pueblo" of Casablanca, through the street of which we 

 drove at a round rate, amidst the uproar of barking dogs. As 

 we passed the houses, we saw, through the wide-open doors, 

 by the dim light of a tallow candle burning in each, the figures 

 of men and women rolled in ponchos and shawls, sauntering 

 about the rooms. Not an individual was induced by curiosity 

 to come to the street to gape at our noisy party, as, I think, 

 would have been the case in the small villages of some of the 



Immortal States." 



A little after eight o'clock we alighted in the court yard of 

 a " posada," or tavern, kept by an Italian named Feroni, which 

 has the reputation of being the best in the place. Feroni was 

 a polite, tall, well made man, with an aquiline nose, black 

 whiskers, and large black eyes. His language was a sort of 

 jumble of Italian and Spanish, with an occasional dash of 



